


Yes

by sbrant



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU where beach sex isn't wildly uncomfortable because i'm the author and i said so, Adult Bill Denbrough, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beach Sex, Drunken Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Honeymoon, Marriage Proposal, Public Sex, bill's parents still suck tho, georgie is also alive btw, so mentioning/implying of child neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbrant/pseuds/sbrant
Summary: Bill takes care of Y/N when she gets drunk while they're on vacation and she ends up confessing something to him.





	1. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

The darkness of early night has fallen on them all by the time he sees her again, only this time in a much worse state than he had last seen her.

As a fun night out, The Losers decided to spend some time in the city upon Beverly's request to distract them from their overwhelming responsibilities with work and, for the remaining few of them that are still in college, school. This meant a few things for his group of friends.

First and foremost, it meant that there would definitely be drinking involved because Eddie and Stan chose the places they'd go and it landed them on a notorious street for partygoers that would go absolutely wild come nighttime. Secondly, it would mean that their group of eight was bound to be separated at some point. They used to try to keep themselves in check and not leave another Loser behind, but that never works, so they typically have a buddy system they adhere to in case things get complicated. And lastly, the Losers going out for a night meant someone would have to be the designated driver and Bill found out just before they left, being the unlucky soul he is, that it's his turn.

Bill scowls at his sad little cup of cranberry juice and is stood leaning against the wall just inside the latest club Richie and Bev dragged him into. His buddy for the night, Mike, lost him an hour ago when Eddie got distracted by the bead necklaces a man had been handing out and had to go after him.

He isn't particularly fond of drinking. It's fun while it lasts, but his hangovers hit hard. Most of his friends can chug alcohol and wake up at seven in the morning the next day with nothing but a headache that they can fix with pain relievers and a cup of coffee. Meanwhile, he always gets sick and starts his day hunched over the toilet vomiting up the contents of his stomach. But, that being said, the fun part of it is definitely something he despises missing out on and if it weren't for making sure his friends get home in one piece, he'd be holding a shot glass instead of a cranberry juice.

Something that really makes him wish he weren't the designated driver is that he's watching his friends have a blast the entire night. He can't bring himself to care though, not when he's worried about where Y/N may have run off to with Ben. There are worse people to leave her with, but he's obviously not worried about Ben, considering that he's one of their best friends, he's worried about other guys being creepy and weird to her.

Of them all, she's always the one he tries to keep tabs on on nights like these. Considering their relationship of two years, it would be concerning if he didn't.

That's why he almost lets out an audible sigh of relief when he spots her in the crowd, the familiar face and flash of her hair swishing to one shoulder as she turns unmistakable. She's at least in the same building as him.

Nights like these are fun when one of the fortunate seven that are allowed to let loose and have fun, so, for him, tonight hasn't been all too exciting, though he must admit it was fun at first.

The street itself is a living, breathing party on its own with music so loud the bass of it was practically palpable in the air surrounding them. While the rest of the city they're visiting is a beauteous fountain of culture, artistry, culinary wonder, and stunning architecture, this street is a lovely contrast to it. With dirty sidewalks and puddles he's sure are more piss and alcohol than they are rainwater, it's where anyone looking for a party would obviously be drawn to. Neon lights and store signs call you in from all sides, some more indecent than others. (One of which being a sex shop that he and Richie traipsed through to get a shirt the later saw in the window that says _"Save a lollipop, suck a dick"_ because he thought it was hilarious.)

All of them had started off walking down that street, minding the few gross puddles after Eddie had made the mistake of stepping in one, completely sober.

Y/N had jumped up onto him for a piggyback ride and he, as he usually does, smiled and held on tight to where her legs were wrapped around his waist. There was so much going on as the nightlife began on the street around them, but, for a long moment, she tucked her face into his neck and pressed kisses to the warm skin there, whispering to him about the borderline ridiculous scenes playing out everywhere they looked as they both laughed to themselves. The kisses were sweet, gentle pecks, but the last was open-mouthed and lingering in a way that made him grip tighter to where his hands were holding onto the soft flesh of her thighs. It was the kind of kiss she gives him on nights that she ends up dragging him off to some secluded place, but that wouldn't be what happens tonight. Eddie and Beverly were leading the pack, while he, Mike, and Y/N were in the back. They were the farthest though, still lost in their own little world on their way to their first stop of the night before they would become distracted and lost among crowds. She stayed clinging onto his back for a good few minutes along the walk and tried to keep her hands to herself since their public displays of affection are apparently "sickening and vomit-inducing" (according to their friends in the most loving way possible).

For a while, it was fine, but as time went on they lost two people and he tried searching for them, considering his role as the group's mother for the night, but that only complicated things further and, by the time he came back, only Mike, Beverly, and Eddie were still waiting there.

That lead them to two other places, a bar and then the club they're at now which is filled to the brim with people and none of them, until now, being the woman he was looking for for the past hour.

He squints through the artificial fog that fills the room and tries to follow where he'd seen her on the edge of the dancing crowd. It's thick with people, his movements swift and deft as he maneuvers his way through as, what he guesses, the only sober person here, and it's hard to find her in the midst of it all until she bumps into him on accident.

Y/N's lucky he's not as inebriated as she is, because he wouldn't have caught her otherwise.

Her hands are warm where they grip his shoulders to keep herself upright and he feels her chest lifting and falling with her laughter against his own.

"Bill!" She shouts, then slurs softer, almost unintelligibly, "I lost-I lost you for so long, I turned and you were gone."

Music so loud, it threatens to blast out his eardrum, her body leans fully on him for support and he scrambles to wrap his arms around her to keep her from the dirty floor. As the night has gone late, the street-long party has surely grown wild and intense. It's hard to hear each other over the noise.

"What?" Bill shouts.

Her chest rises and falls against his, her breaths quicker and shallower than his in a way that makes his brows furrow with worry.

She can typically handle herself on nights out they have with their friends. Typically, she cuts herself off from drinks at a certain point. Typically, she's at least somewhat aware of her surroundings and general grasp on those around her, but right now there's nothing in her line of focus other than Bill. It took ages to finally find her way back to him throughout the chaos of the various places they've stopped into and the overall crazed street they're on, yet now she's here and she's so out of it she doesn't know what to do other than hold him. Partly to keep herself steady, but mostly because she's missed him this entire night. All it took was one of them wandering off and it lead to this ripple affect.

"I-" Y/N says and shakes her head, disoriented, "I got lost. Eddie and I drank a lot and I really," A grimace, "I don't feel well."

It doesn't help that the person singing at the karaoke mic is nauseatingly awful, but whatever it was she drank, if only she could remember what it was, does not settle well with her.

She twists from his arms uncomfortably, her head spinning, and can't get another word out before she throws up on the floor.

-

The cafe he brought her to, after getting her a new clean shirt and helping her into it in the bathrooms in the back, is air-conditioned and the atmosphere of it is quite a stark difference to the street they'd been on only an hour ago.

Considering the weather of where they are, the air conditioning is a blessing in itself and since she isn't covered in her own vomit anymore, this place is a wonderful improvement. It had been an hour-long ordeal, between helping her out of the club, stopping to get her a shirt at this store a few streets down (while he was checking out he was ninety percent sure the lady wanted him gone because his girlfriend, hanging off of him like a clingy child, smelled like vomit and they were the last two customers left before she closed for the night), and coming here.

Yellow, warm light encases the room, flooding out barely through the glass of the windows and the open doors of the cafe into the street. The street they'd been on earlier in the night had been lit by neon storefront signs on every building and this one is illuminated by flickering lantern lights along the sidewalk beneath the balconies that stretch along the second floors of the connected buildings. Somehow, even in her deluded state, while they walked she still had the sense to look and admire the city. It's beautiful, old architecture and intoxicating charm. If she hadn't already known it's supposed to be one of the most haunted cities in the country, she probably would've proposed they move here together.

It seems she does that a lot; imagines an entire life with him there with her. With such a committed relationship, she can't help herself, but sometimes she wonders out of natural insecurity if it'll ever end. If there will come a day where they won't feel this way again. It's more of a fear of him falling out of love with her though, because right now, after tonight, she couldn't love him more if she tried. It's a useless worry, he does love her and makes it very known to her that he does, but it's been gnawing at her lately...

The alcohol hasn't fully worn off, not by any means considering just how much she drank, but she at least isn't throwing up every few minutes like she was before. His hands were warm on her shoulders when they swept her hair up from her neck when she was crouching over the toilet in the same stall she'd just changed out of her vomit-soaked shirt in.

Y/N groans, hiding her face into her hands as to not look at him from across the table, and murmurs, still drunk, "I ruined your night, I'm sorry."

He's still working on the bowl of food they're sharing (well, sharing by the loosest definition of the word since she can't hold down food and won't dare attempt to) when he looks up across the table at her.

It sucks sometimes to be the mom friend on a night like this, but, despite any and all of his internal complaints, he loves them all so much, especially her, that he doesn't mind it every so often. It takes a while to cycle through all eight of them anyway, so he'll have ages before he's on babysitting duty again. But when it comes to her it is different, in a way. At first he was worried about her, but now he's just enjoying the quiet of the cafe and her drunken company. He'll take watching over her over herding all of the Losers into one club and having keeping an eye on every one of them any day. Plus, she has an affectionate streak when she's drunk and the whole way here she was just embracing him for dear life and telling him how much she loves him. So, relatively, she's easy to care for when intoxicated.

She throws up on him, he gets hugs and confessions of undying love as an apology. It's a give and take.

"Y-Y-You didn't r-ruin the night," Bill says and slides the bowl of fruit towards her side of the small circular table, "I don't mind doing this. Plus, it's m-m-m-my turn anyway, you had to last time."

The last time they all went out like this was over half a year ago, which is why it takes forever to cycle through the rotations of being the Losers' babysitter, and he can vaguely recall that night. It ended with him and, Mike, Eddie collapsing onto the couch at their apartment one on top of the other while Y/N and Richie laughed their asses off. Poor Eddie misjudged how much Mike and Bill weigh out together and had to kick at them until Bill flopped onto the floor with nothing more than an indignant grunt of disapproval, all he could manage at that point.

But she doesn't quite believe him and shakes her head, ignoring the food he pushed her way.

"We had so much fun and you just sat there and watched. Then you had to deal with me getting sick," Then she stops and takes a strawberry from the bowl upon realizing the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, "Bev and I were dancing and it was so much fun, you didn't even get to dance..."

Out of kindness, he doesn't laugh at that, despite how overdramatic and adorable it came out in her drunken state.

The only time he ever dances is when he's too fucked up to care or even notice what he's doing, so he's sure that in her eyes him not being able to dance and have fun like the rest of them is an inconceivable crime. But he watches her as she slumps back into her seat, taking tiny bites out of the strawberry bit by bit until she's just idly inspecting what remains of it, and smiles.

Y/N, lost in thought, no doubt about what always drifts into her mind in quiet moments like so, doesn't notice him stand up.

The music playing from the only remaining worker in the cafe's speaker is gentle and thrumming and if they weren't in public, it'd be a siren's lullaby singing her to sleep. It had only started to fade into his ears at her mentioning of how he didn't get to dance with her and he immediately smiled, drank the last swig of his water, and stood to take her hand. The person who served them at the counter has been in the back the whole time they've been here anyway and it's not like there's anyone around to see them.

It takes a few seconds of him simply standing there, hand extended to her, before she notices.

"What?" Her brows are furrowed and her eyes move up and down from his eyes to his hand, her own moving to accept whatever the offer is on instinct alone. His hand encloses around her smaller one almost instantly, the warmth of his palm against her skin something that makes her shiver, even after all this time.

Bill's voice is casual and soft, "Dance w-w-with me."

So, she does.

And at first, as he gently pulls her up from the chair and into him, she doesn't say anything. All she does is rest her hands on his shoulders while his arms are holding her, chest to chest with no room to spare, against him by her waist. He has this way of making her forget everything else, things that actually matter and the responsibilities they have waiting for them when they get back home, when he's touching her. His fingertips are brushing the bare skin of her back beneath the hem of the new t-shirt they bought earlier and its particularly distracting when she's in such a state. For the first few months of their relationship back when it was so new and felt dizzying every time they merely looked at each other, when she was so head over heels in love with him she didn't know what to do with herself half the time, she had known this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Even when it had been that early on and things were as uncertain as the changing tides, deep down she knew.

They're barely moving, but neither of them can find it in themselves to care. In fact, she's too busy looking at him to notice.

He's there, arms wrapped around her so that their bodies press together in just the right way that makes the both of them a little lightheaded, and he's smiling that stupid, goofball smile and she wants to kiss it right off his face.

"What're you smiling at?" Y/N whispers.

Bill chuckles at that, strands of red hair falling into his eyes in a way that only happens when he goes too long without a haircut, shrugging.

One of his hands reaches up from where it had been curved around the slope of her waist and holds the edge of her jaw, the touch gentle and sweet, as he traces her bottom lip with his thumb.

"I j-j-j-just love you," He murmurs, almost in disbelief that she's real.

And she leans up onto her tippy toes at that, struggling to reach his height until his smile softens and he meets her halfway.

It's like forgetting how to breathe, kissing him, and for a second she truly can't get in any air because her breath hitches back at the feeling of his hands tightening on her body along that space of skin between her shirt and pants. Considering how drunk she is, he tries to cut it off right away, but there's the sound of an almost inaudible whine escaping the back of her throat in protest. Her hands slide down his shoulders and along the front of his chest; the feeling of her hands moving flat against the barely-there muscles of his torso making him have to bite back that restraint since she's still inebriated. It's a deep, sensual kiss that she can feel in every nerve-ending of her body, that kind that just takes over everything entirely until there's nothing left of you and the lines between you and the other person blur into one. Into something unrecognizable.

Bill is the one who breaks it off and he gives her one last peck on the corner of her mouth as he's pulling away from the kiss. Her hands are grasped at the front of his shirt still once she opens her eyes and finds him staring down at her, the love in his eyes, something she once may have ran from before him and the relationship that taught her how to love, so overwhelming.

"You really do love me, huh?" She asks.

He raises his eyebrows at that, as if to say _'I just said I did,'_ but she's still looking at him in that way and he can't help but bend to the will of those eyes staring right into his, nearly weak at her fingertips tracing his abdomen muscles through the fabric of his shirt. So, he obliged and says it aloud, smiling.

"Ofc-c-course I do."

"Cause I just threw up for five minutes straight and you still kissed me like that never happened."

Her laughter runs along his heart in a way that he can't quite put into words and he lets himself laugh with her, his pale face flushed with pink along his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

But it's as the laughter begins to die down that she really gets to thinking about it, about everything.

If it weren't already on her mind, there were about a million moments on this trip that would have sparked them. It's the little things like the way he holds every door open for her and the kinds of kisses they share in the morning and at night just before they fall asleep. Last night, it had been more than a kiss. Last night, she came out of the bathroom at the place they're renting just outside of the activity of the heart of the city wearing these scraps of dainty white lace that left very little to his imagination. For a while, they went about things like they usually do getting ready to go to bed and she laid there with her legs stretched out across his while she read the latest piece of writing he gave her to look over as if nothing were amiss. It was a half-hour of sitting there like that together until she set the papers down on the space of the bed between them, clicking off the television, and turned to crawl onto his lap, hands bringing his to the delicate thin fabric barely stretching over her breasts until he was pulling it over her head. Until he kissed her, took off the scraps of clothing piece by piece, and pressed her back down against the mattress with the kind of sweet, loving guidance she wanted from him; the papers sliding right off the edge of the bed amid their panting breaths and quiet moans.

Moments like those too, she decides, along with the good morning kisses, the held-open, doors, and the cup of coffee he makes for her in the morning without her even having to ask. Casual, normal things that mean so much like coffee and kisses and sex...the mere thought of the words she wants to say is almost sobering for a short second.

They're still tucked in so close, sharing each others' every breath as the laughter fades out entirely and shifts into this look she's giving him. And this one he doesn't recognize. This one is wholly different to any way she's ever looked at him before and it's making his chest feel fluttering and light in a way he hasn't felt in a while.

Y/N asks as casually as if she were asking him what time of day it is or what he wants for breakfast, "Marry me?"

He tries not to freak out, attempts to shove all of the sudden nerves and excitement away since he can't truly take anything she says tonight too seriously.

"R-R-R-Ri-Right now?"

The warmth of her touch running down the length of his arm where it's wrapped around her makes him have to take a deep breath. She always does that whenever she's trying to relax him, so perhaps his attempts to keep his screaming excitement under wraps aren't working out after all.

Nevertheless, she shrugs, her lips curled in a lazy grin, "Whenever."

"Y-Y-You're drunk..."

She doesn't miss a beat, "That doesn't mean I don't mean it."

There's a dip of silence in the air surrounding them and, for a second, she wonders if she should've even let her drunk blabber-mouth self say that in the first place considering his pondering quiet, but she can't do anything but wait for him.

They're still gently moving to the lulling beat of the music when he looks her over, the gold in the blue of his eyes brighter in the warm yellow light wreathing the room.

"Why?" Bill murmurs.

A genuine question, she assumes, a vulnerable one at that. She's not particularly certain the exact reason he asks it, but something about the way he had paused and the stillness in him as he asked tells her that it has something to do with that long history of neglect and abandonment issues that follows him everywhere he goes. Perhaps sober her would have a better grasp on it, but somewhere deep down she knows it's tied together.

Y/N lets one of her arms stay draped over his shoulder while the other moves to cup his cheek, his features softening at the grazing contact of her holding his face, that honesty on his face holding still until she answers.

Her lip curls with slight smile.

Y/N simply says, "I just love you," His face goes redder, "and you love me and that's all that matters," she chuckles through the last bit, "Plus, you still kiss me when I taste like vomit and strawberries."

His face scrunches at that, the romance in the air between them relaxing slightly, and he tries not to laugh.

"You're going to m-m-m-muh-marry me because I don't mind when your breath s-s-smells like throw-up?"

"Well, I can't marry you without an answer, that depends on what you say..."

That quickly, the tension returned and any of his joking amusement has faded with its return.

It's hard because she's drunk and he figures she'll probably regret this conversation when she wakes up, but he doesn't the harm in thinking about it. Even if she wakes up tomorrow and tells him she went too fast with it. In truth, there's nothing more that he could want and if she were in her right state of mind this conversation wouldn't have prolonged so much. Marriage is a step that seems intimidating at first glance, but underneath all of that the idea of belonging to one another forever...the idea of getting to see her face every morning for the rest of his life is something he could get used to. Actually, he's already used to it, only right now it isn't official and he wouldn't mind making it so. Not at all.

Bill nudges her nose with his, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, trying out the way it sounds, "Mrs. Denbrough..."

The sound of her shaking exhale against his face tells him enough about how hearing that makes her feel and her chin juts forward in chase of his lips at the words. But she doesn't get there and, instead, they just stay nose to nose like this until she gains the courage to speak again.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice is barely a push of air.

And he doesn't know whether to smile or sigh or kiss her, doesn't know what to do other than keep holding her tight against him and sway barely to the music faintly playing somewhere beyond them. Beyond their own little world that they've escaped to.

He has to keep himself from leaning forward and kissing her, keeps reminding himself of her state of mind, and instead presses a kiss to her forehead with his hands braced on either side of her face. Instead, he opts for sharing the space between them and savoring the way it feels to have her in his arms. The bliss of these moments they get alone, even if anyone passing by on the sidewalk could see them slow-dancing here and roll their eyes. But he doesn't care.

Bill looks down at her, at those tired eyes looking up at him in hope and pure, undiluted love for him, and murmurs, "Ask me again t-t-tuh-tomorrow," to which she nods into his hand at.

It takes a good ten minutes of them sitting there at the table after the song ended before she even made a dent in the bowl of fruit and the water he'd gotten for her. But after she does manage to eat and keep some of it down, they leave their tip on the table for the teenager doing god-knows-what in the back of the cafe the whole time they've been at the place and head out into the thick summer heat. Even at nighttime, the temperature isn't too forgiving as they make the long trek to the place they and the Losers rented. By the time they get there though, their friends are in bed (with the exception of Bev, who cornered him in the hallway and gave him an earful about completely disappearing from the street they were on without even texting her) and by the time he locked the door behind himself and was done being scolded by Beverly out of worry, Y/N had completely passed out on the couch in a matter of a minute.

It didn't take too long for him to carry her to their bed and help her change into some pajamas in her half-asleep daze, so it isn't long before they're both asleep in each others' arms.

And, when morning comes, Bill says yes.


	2. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Y/N keep each other entertained on the first day of their honeymoon.

The place has a lovely, warm kind of atmosphere that she finds she quite likes, especially knowing she has him by her side.

They had been on vacation when she asked him to marry her, drunk and reeking of throw up, but he said yes. When morning came and she wasn't completely hammered, she asked again and he instantly said yes (so quickly and enthusiastically that she practically tackled him onto their bed). And the rest of that trip, being engaged without the rest of them knowing yet, was a kind of bliss neither of them could describe. Sometimes they would turn and look at each other and the world felt beautiful again.

Those feelings only grew with time. The closer they drew to actually getting married, when they were picking out their rings while they were still in that city, when they told everyone, and now as they reap the benefits of finally being a married couple, the closer they grew to one another.

Y/N smiles faintly as she watches him.

He's simply happy to, at last, be at the place they booked to stay, after hours in the car from the airport, and collapsed on the bed without so much as a sound other than a happy sigh.

The room is beautiful, if she's to say so herself. They opted for one of the most secluded places on the island in one of the less crowded months, though there are bound to be tourists no matter what time you go, so it's fairly quiet and calm where they are. Her palm runs flat along one of the four posters of the bed, dark mahogany wood sanded smooth under her touch.

She's more taken aback by him though.

As of late, it seems that everything about him has her awed to silence. Little things, like the way he always smiles at her when he first wakes in the morning or the way he looks now, lying still and tired with his face nuzzled deep into the sheets stretched across their bed.

"You know you shouldn't get too comfortable," Y/N says, making a head of ginger pop up from the expanse of white pillows and duvet, "I'm not done with you yet."

Bill raises his brows suggestively, already propped up onto his elbows and facing her by the time she realizes what she said and why he's looking at her like that.

He barely has time to register it before she snatches the pillow he was hugging to hit him with it. His halfhearted pleas for mercy grant him nothing but more of her gentle whacks on the head with it, their laughter flooding the room. To get her to stop (since it's more pestering than it is painful because it's a pillow and it's not like she's trying to hurt him), he has to wrangle it away from her.

"I didn't mean it like that, you horny idiot, I meant that we have things to do," She laughs, "sights to see. I want to go hiking at least once before I'm too sore from you to do it."

In all fairness, she does have a point. Both of them know half of this honeymoon will be them being unable to keep their hands to themselves. So, she figures if she gets the stuff with tons of physical activity (other than the obvious) out of her system first, then she won't feel bad about coming to such a beautiful place and spending more time in a bed than experiencing the wonder of the world around them.

It's wild to him, he thinks as he looks up at her from where he's lying, that this is their life together. They met three years ago right after he graduated from college through Beverly. All it took was one conversation with her in their mutual friends' living room and he instantly thought to himself 'I'm gonna marry this girl'. And now he has and he can't wrap his head around how much he loves her. Three years was all it had taken to go from nothing to everything. Three years ago he'd still been living with his parents and Georgie had just turned sixteen. Now, it's only a month until his little brother graduates High School and he's _married_.

If he went back and told his former self he'd be someone's husband in three years time, he'd laugh himself hoarse.

Marriage wasn't something he was interested in at first. Before her, before everything, love didn't truly interest him.

Growing up, he and George didn't exactly have the role model parents when it came to love or anything really. They fed them (barely), clothed them (though Bill was the one who took his younger sibling shopping when he outgrew his clothes, not them), and put a roof over their head. But that was pretty much all they did and he's sure they're the kind of people who shouldn't have had children in the first place. Sometimes he wondered if they ever even loved each other, didn't see how it was possible that whatever it is they became once could've been something a lot like what he has now. And, though he'll never openly admit it, that's what scares him about this whole marriage thing. No matter how much he adores her, loves her, genuinely wants to spend every day until the day he dies with her, there's a lingering fear in him that won't wash away. A fear that this might all be temporary and one day this love they've found will subside to bitter resentment and neglect much like his parents.

That's what stopped him anytime he wanted to seriously pursue someone before, but there was no getting around what he felt for her.

There was love before her, he can see that. He raised Georgie more than his parents did and loves him as much as a sibling can love another sibling, almost loves him more like he's his son. He loved the Losers and, despite everything, he did love his parents. But this is different. As soon as he met her, he knew it would be different and that was terrifying.

Learning what true, actual romantic love is like was perhaps the most exhilarating part of it all and sometimes he's still learning. For a lot of his younger years he had crushes and went on little movie dates as a teenager, not realizing what the big deal of it all was, but he never felt what his friends felt much earlier on than he had. Love, among most intense emotions, is addictive. Desire is more intoxicating than liquor, than anything, and he can't believe he hadn't known.

He tries not to tune out too much as she talks about the different things she researched, that happy daze he gets from watching her talk so excitedly about something immediate, and shifts in his spot on the mattress.

In spite of fear, his heart so willingly follows hers everywhere it wishes to go.

Bill smiles softly, watching her ramble on and on, and then pulls her down onto the bed with him.

Her surprised laugh/shriek pierced his eardrums, but he pays it no head and just keeps smiling at her with that goofy grin even as she settles into the disrupted sheets and stares over at him.

"We're so happy, it's borderline unsettling," Y/N whispers, reaching out and brushing strands of red back from his forehead.

He cocks his head to the side, but with how they're laying it doesn't really have the intended effect and instead looks like he's shoving his head into the mattress. Her thumb caresses the edge of his jaw.

"We can't be h-h-h-happy?"

There's a gentle breeze coming into the room from the open bedroom window and it blows the hair she had just adjusted back onto his face, making both of them softly chuckle at the way she narrows her eyes in the direction of the wind.

But after their little moment, she responds, "Of course we can. Hell, it's my mission to make you the happiest you can be, but I'm not used to us being so...bright and bubbly. It's a welcome change though."

They're both usually angst-ridden and blue, so such overwhelming joy is foreign territory for them. His cheeks have almost started to ache from how much he's been smiling in the last twenty-four hours.

It's quiet for a while as they both get caught up in each other, his hand drifting along her waist, and she's not sure what to do with the way he's looking at her. There's this light to him that hasn't burnt so bright in ages, that may not have even burnt this bright for all of his life.

His happiness is so wonderful to watch.

Bill tugs her closer until their chests are pressed tightly together and they share their every breath and only then does he finally say something again.

"If not that," He whispers, "t-then w-w-what is it you'd like to do with me, Mrs. Denbrough?"

-

In all honesty, it's probably something he should have anticipated.

Of all people, he knows her best and that being said, this shouldn't have surprised him.

"Y-Y-You what?"

Y/N, hand in his, led him out of the room they rented and out to the street. Even the walk out from the sliding glass door in their bedroom to the street-side is scenic and gorgeous in a way things aren't back where they live. It's lush with vegetation and wildlife, greenery surrounding you on all sides. The only downside is with the beauty comes the heat. It's a thirty-second walk and they're both already sweating, but he's guessing that from the swimsuits they changed into, they're going somewhere where that won't be an issue.

(She said she's surprising him with where their destination is, but the second she threw him his swimsuit he knew they're going to a beach).

"Instead of a car, I figured we could ride around on this," Y/N says, smacking her hand on the seat of the rented motorbike he figured was someone else's when they initially arrived here.

It's lovely, dark blue painted motorcycle. It looks well-made and sturdy enough to hold them both.

He runs his fingers along the handgrip curiously.

"G-G-Great idea, but I don't know h-how to drive it..."

Being her boyfriend for so long, he would've thought she knew he didn't know how to drive anything but a car, but, then again, there was never a situation where she could have found that out until now.

Y/N gives him a funny look; furrowing her brows and smiling at him as if he'd just said something ridiculous.

"I never said _you_ were gonna drive it."

The next thing he knows, they're riding down the coast so quickly that he has to cling to her waist to stay on the bike and, even then, he fears that they're one pothole away from disaster.

It's a while of driving before they reach their destination and, even then, they have quite the hike to make to actually get there.

Between the warmth of the sun falling down on them from between the leaves of the treetops and the lively sounds of the forest surrounding them, this place could possibly be the physical manifestation of the word paradise.

He, still tired from an exhausting trip to get here, trails far behind Y/N. The soles of his shoes crunch twigs and leaves scattered about the ground as he weaves in between the trees and thick brush.

Riding along the coast on a motorcycle, his arms tightly wrapped around her waist, was strangely peaceful. It almost began to lull him into sleep, the wind blowing through them both while he focused on the scenic view of the sprawling ocean on one side and the forest on the other. By the end of the ride, he was jolted awake when they came to a stop at a remote, empty parking lot that led to an overgrown trail into the forest.

Bill tries to catch up with her, but she's moving faster than he's willing to go, so he simply observed her as she marvels at the beauty of the landscape and hikes through the vegetation. The sun hits her with every few steps she takes, haloing her like an angel, and he smiles softly at the surreal realization that that's his wife, that someone actually loves him enough to want to spend the rest of their life with him. That initial time she asked him to marry her, he wasn't sure what to feel. Overwhelmed was first, but she was drunk and he knew that anything she said couldn't be relied on. Then, the next morning, she asked him for real and a part of him simply surrendered to her in a way he couldn't have fathomed before. Because, now, in any universe, in every way, his heart belongs entirely to her.

These thoughts of pure love and gratitude won't relent and he couldn't care less, the happiness is infectious.

Her voice brings him from that far-away place in his mind though.

"I did a lot of reading up about this place before we left," Y/N says from up ahead, where he can see the forest finally begin to dissolve into wherever it is that borders the other side, and he unconsciously begins to move faster to catch up at the sound of her speaking.

Shifting in and out of the tree trunks, she disappears and reappears into his line of sight every so often. He stops where he last heard her voice.

Bill jolts as she appears from around the tree he stopped at.

"People call it the Island of a Thousand Temples and the Island of the Gods," her eyes shine when she looks up at him, "considering all the temples everywhere and the fact that this place is practically paradise, I can see why."

It _looks_ like it was perfectly honed by gods, after all.

He can't help but melt at the way she's looking at him with such adoration, but before he can pull her closer, the sound of crashing waves distracts him and he's walking out to the beach before she can say a word.

It's...utterly unbelievable.

It takes a hell of a drive over, an exhausting hike, and they have to walk through the wide, sprawling cave at the edge of the forest to get through to the actual beach, but once he's standing here that all disappears.

-

The heat is scorching against his skin in a way that makes him scared that he'll be sunburnt by the time they leave, but it's hard for either of them to care about much of anything amid all the surrounds them.

The pale sand is hot to the touch against her hand as she absentmindedly picks up handfuls, letting it slowly spill down between her fingers and back to the ground just off the edge of the blanket they laid out. Lulling, crashing waves that barely miss where they've set up camp with every time the water washes up on shore set her mind into a state of meditative ease she desperately needed after all of the traveling they did today.

To put it simply; this isn't _practically_ paradise, it_ is_ paradise.

When they first arrived a few hours ago, after they put down the blanket and got settled, she spent a half-hour swimming and diving through the gentle current with him. Blue, shockingly clear water slid along her skin so smoothly and, though she's dry now, at the time the water was a much-needed relief from the inescapable sun. Bill, though he took a brief break, still stays in the comfortably tepid water.

She's laid on her stomach with her chin cradled on her forearm and her eyes follow his every movement.

His hands trembled when he slipped the ring onto her finger, that memory is one of the most vivid ones she has of the day they married one another. In flashes, she can see it, she can see their love developing and exploding into something bigger than either of them could have pictured right before her eyes. There are people who roll their eyes at the idea of having such a sentimental view of things like marriage and love and she's well aware that Bill himself felt that way at first.

When they were introduced to one another, it wasn't difficult to see that as she began to get to know him and unravel the layers of the man she desperately wanted to discover more of. As soon as she saw him, she was gone and so was he, but it took him longer to confront those feelings than it did for her. After realizing her advances weren't going anywhere, she left him be, but something in him shifted. There's no way for her to pinpoint why or how this shift happened, all she knows is that after a week of her distancing herself from him, he asked her if she wanted to go out and they haven't parted ways since. That was when the dizzying, head over heels sort of love took hold of him and never let go.

Thinking of those early days, when they were still discovering themselves and each other in such a hazed cloud of passion and desire, has her smiling to herself.

Y/N only drifts back to reality when he's walking back up the shore to her, the sand tumbling back down from her fingertips and onto the corner of the blanket as soon as her eyes find him.

Already, she hadn't been able to keep her hands to herself when they were swimming earlier. It's not like he was making it easy either when he was whispering soft, sweet words in her ear and pressing kisses to the edge of her jaw that had her head tilting back onto his shoulder in appreciation. Wandering hands kept drifting along the edge of her bathing suit and she opened her mouth to ask him if he wanted to go back to shore when a wave smacked them right off their feet. After a moment of trying to get the water out of their noses, they burst into laughter. But that didn't make her forget where they were headed before the wave crashed on them, with his lingering, open-mouthed kisses and wandering hands.

He sits down on the blanket beside her, trying to dry off his hair when she finally shifts to face him.

Droplets of water cling to his skin and she can't help but stare as the muscles in his abdomen flex with his movement, a heavy breath falling from him as soon as he lays back. Partly, she wonders if he notices her blatant ogling and pretends not to, but, knowing him, he's probably oblivious to it.

"Bill?"

"Mmm?"

Y/N pulls the tube of sunscreen from her backpack and asks, "Would you mind putting some sunscreen on my back?"

There's a brief pause, then he takes it from her, offering a soft, "Sure," and crawls across the blanket to her.

The sun is hotter on his skin when she reaches back to undo the strings of her bikini top, the fabric falling back to reveal stretches of soft, bare skin, and he wants nothing more than to lean down to press a kiss there, but he keeps that urge to himself for now. They way they'd been touching one another earlier...it seems that she's not the only one who hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He _had_ noticed her staring a moment ago and, honestly, he's not sure that he'll be able to keep himself at bay if she keeps it up. All it took was that one glance from her and he couldn't help the image that had flooded his mind; him burying his face between her legs and seeing how she tastes.

Thankfully, she can't see his cheeks flush with color from where she lays on her stomach.

The sunscreen is cold when it meets her skin, a welcome relief, yet his touch diffuses that feeling entirely. At first, he just spreads it across her skin as normal, trying to get it evenly coated as he rubs it in, but then it slowly turns into him massaging the tense muscles along her shoulders and back.

Y/N's pretty sure he's making it his mission to make her melt in his arms and it's totally working.

Strong hands knead at the knots in her muscles and this pulls a soft groan from her, a slight smile blooming on his lips at the sound. His touch starts at the edge of her shoulders and steadily roams further below with every pass he makes along the length of her body. Every press of his fingertips is teasing the line of drifting unnecessarily far and it's difficult to ignore, especially considering all of the indecent thoughts she's having about flipping them over and trying to see what sounds _she_ can make _him_ make. There's the wonderful feeling of him massaging her back, then her remembering what it felt like the last time he was inside of her. There's the sensual brush of his lips between her shoulder blades, then her wondering if she can put that mouth to use somewhere else. It's impossible to escape these thoughts and when his hands brush the curves of her hips, brushing the edge of her bathing suit, she can't stand it anymore.

The beach is entirely deserted and they're the only people here, but she still debates the risk of what she wants to do. If someone does come here, despite the fact that they've been alone all day, they'd be screwed. If someone doesn't though...

"I think the sunscreen is rubbed in already..."

His mouth runs dry when she turns over onto her back and props herself up on her elbows to be closer to him.

"You s-shuh-sure?" Bill asks, letting his palm run down her naked chest, and he crowds her space further, "You w-want me to stop?"

In that, there's a genuine question, it wasn't just him trying to get a reaction from her; he wanted to know if she wants this. Even if she had been ogling him and, admittedly, asking him to help her with the sunscreen for this very reason, it's still important that he asks.

She looks in either direction of the beach and bites her lip, contemplating, until she shakes her head.

"No," She whispers breathlessly, pulling him down to kiss her, "I don't want you to stop."

His lips taste salty when they meet her's and she reaches up to grip his shoulders for support, letting her hands slide down to his biceps as she opens her mouth to him.

If they are doing this, which, considering the way they're desperately tugging at and grinding through their last layers against one another, this is really going to happen, they'll have to be quick. Or, at least, as quick as they can force themselves to be. Even if nobody else has shown up all day, her heart pounds harder at the fact that they're risking getting caught for this and, in a way, this makes it strangely hotter for them both. The idea that what they're doing could possibly get them arrested shouldn't be sexy, but she can't deny that it does make every breath that has her breasts brushing against his chest go a little heavier.

Y/N realizes at the feeling of him hard at the apex of her thighs, that _he's_ making her breaths go heavy. Everything from the way he smiles into her mouth to the faint moan that falls from his lips when their bodies meet; unashamed and needy.

"Touch me," Her words are hushed and low compared to the sound of the waves crashing far beyond the haze they're in. Her hand guides his beneath the top edge of her bikini bottoms, "Please."

Bill can feel her shudder at the sensation of him rubbing her clit with the heel of his hand and watches her head fall back against the blanket.

The water that coats his pale, freckled skin in a thin sheen drips off of him and onto her, pooling in the valley between her breasts until it trickles down her abdomen. Sand that had been on her hands now transfers and sticks to his wet skin wherever she touches him until she's clean of it, running her palm down the smooth plane of his chest until she reaches his bathing suit. His stomach flinches inward at her fingertips dropping, brushing through the sparse hair that trails below his bellybutton, and dipping into the waistband of his shorts. It's a challenge for her to think through what he's making her feel and with every dizzying stroke he makes against that sensitive bundle of nerves, she can't help but pull him closer.

Bill bites down on her lower lip when she tugs his swim trunks down and her hand grazes over the tip of his dick. He likes to believe it isn't so easily to rile him up, but that one touch has him stiffening in her hand.

There's nothing more they want than to drag this on, to prolong the time they spent in each other's arms, but they don't have that time. It's hard to remind themselves that they're not exactly in the comfort and privacy of their bedroom back home, because despite how far away the rest of the world may feel right now, they are still in public.

His fingers tremble as he pulls on the strings of her bikini bottoms and they get tossed aside into the sand beside where her backpack rests.

She can feel her wetness on his fingertips when she nudges him onto his back, his hands gripping hard on her hips to support her as she shifts onto his lap. It's hard to believe this is really happening, even though the sensation of her rolling her hips down on him and sucking at the sensitive skin along his neck feels incredibly real.

It's been seeming like a lot of things haven't felt real lately.

Between the unimaginable beauty of where they currently are, what they're about to do, and their marriage in general, he's scared of trusting it as he so vulnerably does. No matter his fears, he does trust their marriage and, most importantly, he trusts her. How could he not? He knows she would never intentionally hurt him and he has never felt the love she has for him waver. While he does have fears that have been conditioned into him since childhood, he's been getting better at overcoming the thoughts that they cause. Since they got together, he's been getting better at being the voice of reason again the voice in his head telling him that he isn't good enough and if that tells him anything, it tells him that their love is something worthy of a little blind faith.

Isn't that what love is anyway? Trust, diligence, and blind, unadulterated faith?

Either way, he knew the moment he said yes when she popped the question that he wanted this; a lifetime of her looking at him the way she is right now. She had pulled back from where she'd left a couple love bites on his neck to look at him and, as she cared her fingers through his hair, she smiled.

Bill realizes, with no small amount of wonder, that that's what made him ask her out three years ago. That sudden shift in him hadn't been from any groundbreaking epiphany he had about his deeply internalized fear of love, it had been her. It was just because she smiled at him one of the days of that week they spent apart and he realized he didn't want to go the rest of his life without seeing that smile again.

"I l-l-luh-love you," He says.

This makes her slow for a second, eyes softening with something a lot like gratitude, and she lets the hand he had perched on her waist slide down to squeeze her thigh. And, as she guides him into her, she whispers it back.

Between the heat of the sun beating down on them and the heat of what they're doing that makes his entire body flush with color, Bill just might burst out of his skin he's so overwhelmed. And she's right there with him, feeling every twitch of him from where he's seated deep inside of her, sharing every breath and sigh they exchange as he stays, entirely still, waiting for her to adjust. The beating of her heart is a clear drum where her chest presses up against his and the hand that had been on her thigh moves to feel it at the center of her chest.

Her lips curl in a gentle smile as his palm lies flat against her.

"Y-Y-Y-Your heart..." Bill breathes, "it's b-b-beating r-really fast."

It's hard for him to form words in their current situation. It always is, but right now he's losing himself in what it feels like to have her wrapped around him, warm and wet. Every muscle in his body tenses with that feeling, forcing him to remain still until she decides otherwise.

She still has that smile on her face when she says in return, her own hand resting on his chest to feel the heartbeat there, "I know," a slight shift of her hips that sends him reeling, "you're the one making it that way."

After this, there's a silence that's only interrupted by the sounds of the ocean not far off and he's tracing her lip with his thumb, forgetting their situation and the urgency of it. For a second, he's not thinking about the fact that there's a lot of risk in taking this moment to talk with her.

It starts out gentle and sweet.

And she's sure they're both bursting with anticipation and nerves as she rolls her hips on his, sure that they're both needing more as soon as she makes that first move.

There's a certain disbelief that plagues her as it does him too; surrounding the fact that he's here with her. It still makes her so giddy to think that he's her husband. The time they spent together when they were on vacation with their friends was what made her realize this is what she wanted. She would look over at him and her heart felt whole, just as it does now, and when she got so drunk that her senses slipped away, it simply came out. All she knew was that she loved him and that was all that mattered to her.

As long as she's with him, everything's golden.

With every thrust, they can both feel each other becoming more and more needy. Bill's nails dig into her skin where he holds her hips, guiding every intensifying rut they make, and she's kissing him as if she'll never be able to again. Teeth, tongues, and lips all clash together hungrily in an effort to get some form of relief from their lust for one another, but nothing can cure it. No matter what they do, they can't get enough of one another.

It had been a slow, lazy pace before, but it gets quicker and rougher with every passing second and she can feel that pleasure building in the pit of her belly. It's familiar and, yet, she finds herself practically trembling in response as if it were the first time they did this. Perhaps it's the excitement of what they're doing or the fact that it's been a while, but, nevertheless, she can barely stand it. Now, it's sweat that clings to them in a thin film, not water, and he can taste the saltiness of it when he starts to kiss and nip at the stretch of skin just below her ear.

"Fuck," The word falls from her as if she didn't even realize she said it and the way she sounds when she whines for him nearly sends him over right there.

Bill, after noticing the way her legs shook with the effort to keep herself upright over him, keeps her steady against him and moves so he's no longer laying on his back. The change in position isn't too wild, but she still has to hold tightly to him at the sudden shift and how much deeper this feels. She's babbling something under her breath unintelligibly, her legs hooked around his hips as he's sat on his knees with her, and he wraps an arm around her back so that their bodies are pressed flush up against each other. For the brief moment they remained idle as they adjusted to the change, she was still trying to move on him.

He watches her for a moment before he takes control; how her chest dives and raises so dramatically with every panting breath and the way her brows furrow as she rocks with him, their lips thrown off-kilter with every slight rise and fall.

Y/N simply disintegrates in his arms the second he takes over for her.

One arm of his arms is braced around her waist to keep her from falling away while the other is holding one of her legs for leverage, the result of such a position being him moaning into her mouth helplessly and her tugging on strands of his hair in reaction to his abdomen hitting her clit on the upstroke without fail.

All that exists right now is them and, consequences be damned, she wants him to give her his all. And, though she doesn't know what she's muttering, she tells him as much. It's a mixture of jumbled words he couldn't decipher, but then she came as close as physically possible and whispered the word "please" into his mouth a couple of times as they kissed. He got the message.

Everything is frantic and passionate and the pleasure is building up to a point where they're both so dangerously close.

Having listened to what she practically begged for, Bill doesn't bother with formality or caution. Each rough thrust is met with their respective gasps, moans, and her pulling on his hair in a way that makes him go a little breathless every time. She wishes she could listen to the beautiful noises he makes for eternity because those alone are enough to send her closer. Throughout their relationship, he's gotten progressively more vocal during sex as it went along. He was never able to string together more than a few words amid these types of encounters, but he never really made _other_ noises either. The more comfortable with her he grew, the less he tried to stifle them and her reaction was positive enough to make him think twice about keeping quiet ever again, to say the least. Though he used to be fairly quiet, now it's difficult to get him to shut up, not that she minds.

Bill's muscles ache with the effort of holding them both upright, but he doesn't care. He might have to collapse onto the blanket as soon as it's over and zone out for a brief moment, but right now she feels so good and he could care less about anything else.

She's clinging to him with any remaining strength she has left when he hits an angle in her so perfectly that she couldn't stop herself from coming undone even if she wanted to.

Her body goes slack against his through the height of that release, the sudden, blinding fire that spreads and rages through her with every pounding thrust he makes into her. And with the way her muscles involuntarily contract around him, the tight warmth that envelops him closer every second, he starts to feel himself fall apart too. He chases that feeling while she rides out her own orgasm and the pleasure is prolonged by the last few, jerking movements he makes in pursuit of that same bliss.

Y/N feels him go still, throbbing inside of her, and the sensation of his come spilling out inside of her makes her let go of a shaking exhale into his mouth. There's this warmth spreading in her and his slow, rolling thrusts make the gratification increase tenfold in the wake of her current sensitivity.

The sound of crashing waves, much louder now than she remembers them being when she had been tangled up with Bill a few minutes ago, is what draws her out of her hazed, meditative state. Her mind had been elsewhere when he gently withdrew from her and they both collapsed down onto the blanket together. He had grabbed his swim shorts from wherever it is she'd discarded them, but she remains completely naked. Still caught in her sleepy state of mind, she fumbles for him from where she laid beside him. Even if he were right there, arm brushing the side of her's, it hadn't felt close enough and she wanted to cuddle into his side. It's always difficult to refrain from wanting to be so touchy and mushy with him afterward, but, luckily for her, he's never minded.

She's tucked against him closely and rests her head on his chest as it rises and falls with every heavy breath. His heartbeat is so calming, it's an effort not to fall asleep.

One of her hands draws circles in the layer of sweat that coats his chest while the other interlaces with his hand, her voice so soft when she says, "Your heart is beating really fast."

This makes him turn to look at where she lies against him, where she hums to herself, draws circles on his skin, and listens to the steady thrum of his heart, and there's sated smile on his face.

"I know," Bill parrots back at her, trailing his free hand up and down the length of her spine, "Y-Y-You're the one who m-made it that way."

They lay together like this for as long as they can before they both realize she should probably put her bathing suit back on and they should go clean off in the water. But, for the brief time they were able to stay locked away in that intimate moment, they couldn't keep their hands to themselves. She kept running her hand up the length of his arm from where they held hands just so she could feel the warmth of his skin and know he was really there with her while Bill, still absolutely fuck-drunk and dazed, kept pressing kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, until she couldn't stop laughing from his incessant affections.

And he helped her too. When a minute of that passed by and they suddenly realized she was still naked on a public beach, he let her brace a hand on him while she slid her bathing suit back on with shaky legs and tied the strings of her top back together for her. When they got down the water and her legs wobbled when a fairly gentle wave hit her, he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from him. Of course, that ended with her telling him to stop laughing at her since he caused it, but then that launched into a debate about who actually initiated what just happened upon the blanket. But, after a briefly heated debate about who seduced who, he ended up picking her up and dragging her into the water with him.

Y/N sighs in relief at the cool water that laps at her sides as she tries to clean the mess he made of her. The current is calmer than it had been when they first arrived, so she's been able to clean off without his aid as soon as they passed where they waved crashed on the shore. It's wild to her how beautiful of a place this is though and even as she subtly watches Bill without him realizing the entire time, she's still marveling at what surrounds them.

The ocean doesn't look like this near where they live. At home, it's not too bad, but it doesn't compare to how clear and blue the water is here. The sand is whiter too and she can actually walk on the ocean floor without being assaulted by a collection of jagged seashells.

Finally being clean of the sweat and the come that had dripped down the inside of her thighs feels indescribably relieving. She swims over to where he is, a little farther out where he can still stand with the water at his neck, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. The kiss she pressed to the base of his neck makes him smile.

"We s-s-should go h-home," He says.

It takes another hour of them chasing after one another in circles, kissing and talking as they pack the blanket up in the backpack and procrastinate the hike back to where they parked, but they leave early enough that the sun is starting to dip below the horizon by the time they get back to their place.

And when they fall asleep, they cuddle close together and he knows he's ready to hop on the back of the motorcycle and go on whatever adventure it is she has planned for them.

After all, he'd follow her anywhere.


End file.
